


Booze, Bronze, And Bullocks

by Mikegracegames



Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-04
Updated: 2020-05-04
Packaged: 2021-03-03 02:34:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 667
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24007444
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mikegracegames/pseuds/Mikegracegames
Summary: Crowley and Bob help Bill Bailey realize that he needs to get sober now.Inspired by the Roomba of Doom series
Relationships: Crowley (Good Omens) & Original Character(s), Crowley (Good Omens)/Reader
Kudos: 8





	Booze, Bronze, And Bullocks

**Author's Note:**

> *trigger warning  
> Veiled references to  
> Sexual assault  
> Alcoholism  
> Bullying

Booze, Bronze, And Bullocks

Bill was a drunk. He knew that, and he didn't care. Every day, he went to the pub and had a few glasses of pale ale, mostly to hide from himself and his past. This too he was well aware of. He'd been fighting with his own confused sexuality since that Vicar...no, best to get another and wash that thought away, he decided.

He was seated outside at Mother Mash, tuckered out, sipping on Sambrook Wandle and picking at what was left of his Colcannon. He decided to go inside, since the staff hadn't been out lately, and he wanted another draft.

As he stood, he could feel and hear the pleasant dizziness, and the clink of some one pound coins in his left pocket. He was going to continue being wasted as long as possible, then go home to his lonely flat.

That was when he saw Him. A lanky, angular, well dressed, tall, gorgeous man with well styled red hair, walking oddly up the street in his direction. Again, he felt he had to quell those "other impulses" that school and family had tried to beat and bully out of him. He was strangely rapt by the sight.

The man was leaning slightly, and appeared to be talking to himself. As he grew closer, Bill could swear he heard another voice. Perhaps it was just the booze talking.

In spite of the vapor trails caused by his inebriation, he knew he would call the man "darkly beautiful," or something of that kind. He was fluid and graceful, and majestic, but also edgy.

"What a sight," Bill muttered to himself.

Then, he caught part of what the man was saying: "No, no! Definitely not! Your bloody mad! I will not DO that!"

A soft, almost hypnotic and yet...robotic? Voice followed, "You promised, Crawley."

"Wot!? Here?! In the mil of Soho? Yer outta yer bloody microchip!"

"You promised." It crooned again.

Bill rubbed his eyes. The vapor trail had become more defined. It look like..Wings! Big, beautiful, iridescent black wings!

"You're cracked, Bill." He muttered to himself

"Bullocks! Not here. Your mother was a dustbuster!" The fire and Bronze haired man said," and it's not Crawley! It's Crowley, rhymes with unholy!"

"Piss off." The voice said.

Bill was sure he was hallucinating now. Because he had located the voice. It was coming from a Roomba, following close on the heels of the now stalking and flustered man.

"Oh fine, hellspawn. I did promise. ," the man snapped, and stopped by the corner, just past the patio area. 

The roomba followed this with a long string of profanity, ending in a "Thanks."

"No need for that language, Bob. I said I'll do it."

Crowley took out his iPhone, and swung it around, tracing an outline. Moments later, a cherry red door with a HUGE bronze knocker and great, big bronze door knob were there, frame and all. Problem was, there was no building attached to it.

Bill couldn't help himself. He squeaked in shock. The door opened into a green hillock,with 7 white towers in the distance.

Crowley whipped his head around, then smiled."Oh! Well, hello there Bill. You know, this is all a dream. Maybe you should go home, have a cuppa, and try to get some more rest, eh? That's a good lad."

He looked down at the machine, and said "after you, kiddo!"

The roomba began rolling in the door with a tirade of blasphemy and cursing that would have made a paratrooper cringe. He smiled at Bill as he closed the door, "Night then. He'll get over it."

The door snapped shut, and then sort of blinked out of existence, leaving Bill in fearful awe.

"All right lad," he told himself out loud, " I think you've had enough for a lifetime. Off you trot." And he proceeded to walk back to his flat, slowly looking up Alcoholics Anonymous meetings for the next day on his phone.


End file.
